Holy Ceremony

by Harri Nykanen

  I pulled up Seija Haapala’s number and called her back the second I stepped out of the tent. I apologized for not having been able to answer.

  “I promised to call if I heard anything. One of Reka’s old friends from the Daybreak Academy called half an hour ago and asked if I knew how to get in touch with Reka. He’s not answering his old number.”

  “Who was it who called?”

  “Kai Halme, a bank manager from Turku… or I guess he lives in Helsinki these days. I have his number.”

  I wrote the number down.

  “Did he say anything else, like why he was trying to reach Laurén?”

  “Only that Reka had tried to call him a while back but that he hadn’t been able to take the call at the moment and then the whole thing had slipped his mind. When he remembered, the number said it was out of service.”

  “Have you met this Halme before?”

  “It’s been almost fifteen years, probably. He was at business school then. He came to the housewarming party at our first place… or I guess I ran into him at some event since then, but that was years ago.”

  “Was he a member of the Sacred Vault, too?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I remember them talking about it when they were drunk.”

  “And you didn’t remember last time we talked?”

  “You can’t remember everything,” Seija snapped.

  I thanked her for the information. “And Laurén hasn’t called you?”

  My surprise question didn’t catch Haapala off guard. She laughed softly. “If he had, I would have told you.”

  “What about your daughter?”

  “Now that I don’t know.”

  12

  Stenman had finally managed to get hold of Laurén’s daughter and set up a meeting at police HQ. She called that afternoon to let me know the girl was in the lobby. I asked Stenman to bring her to the conference room.

  The daughter took after Laurén in looks, after her mother in style. She was seventeen, but looked older. Her outfit consisted of a hippie-style skirt, light-green knee-length coat in a military cut, and well-worn brown leather boots. A hand-knitted rainbow scarf was wrapped around her neck.

  As she flung her coat down on the chair next to her, I sensed a reticence about meeting with me.

  “I’m sure your mother told you why we need information on your father,” I began.

  “No. Or at least I didn’t get what she was trying to tell me. I guess he’s lost it somehow, but I don’t get why that means I have to come in and be interrogated.”

  Stenman corrected her: “This isn’t an interrogation, this is a chat.”

  “It sure seems like an interrogation.”

  “We’re looking for him because we want to make sure he isn’t planning on doing anything to himself or anyone else. You don’t want your dad ending up in trouble, do you?”

  The girl pulled off her scarf, which was wrapped around her throat at least three times. “You guys don’t have anything to be afraid of. He would never hurt anyone, at least not anyone else. It’s against his principles. He’s the biggest softie I know.”

  “Softie dads usually stay in touch with their only daughters,” Stenman noted.

  “Yeah, he calls and texts me sometimes.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “Yesterday.” The girl reached into her woven shoulder bag, pulled out her cell phone, and studied it for a moment. “‘Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams. Love, Dad.’ Hope that helps.” As she read the message, a tenderness bordering on tears colored the girl’s voice.

  “What number did the message come from?”

  I glanced at the number. It was the same one Laurén had called me from earlier. “Does he have any other phone numbers?”

  “He’s had this one for at least six months.”

  “Can you tell us where your father might be?”

  “If he’s not at home then I don’t know where he is.”

  “At the apartment in Töölö, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Dad has lived there for a year or so. He inherited the place from some old aunt.”

  “Your father hasn’t been there for several days now. Do you know if he has an RV?”

  “If he does, he never showed it to me. He always talked about getting one, said we’d go off and drive around Finland together.”

  “Where do you live yourself?” Stenman asked.

  “I have a place with a couple of friends—”

  “You’re pretty young to be on your own.”

  “It’s better than being at home.”

  “You and your mom don’t get along?”

  “Show me someone who does.”

  “You’re still in high school. Where do you get rent money?”

  “Dad. He also inherited a bunch of money and stocks. He sold them right away. Said he’s not cut out to be a stock-market speculator.” Mandi smiled for the first time. She probably didn’t even notice. “Mom pretends to be so artistic and bohemian, but she’s really not. Dad is. If he has money, he’ll give it to anyone who bothers to ask. Dad’s old friends take advantage of his generosity.”

  This gave me a good way in: “Do you think he might be staying with one of his old friends?”

  “The only one I know is Ola Sotamaa. And him only because he’s famous, at least sort of, and he’s been to our place a few times. He has his own radio show.”

  “He said the last time he saw your dad was six months ago.”

  “Could be. Dad has been pretty mysterious and spending lots of time alone… But Ola has been to our place since then… because of Mom.”

  “Are they dating?” Stenman asked.

  “No. Maybe Ola wants to, but Mom doesn’t.”

  “Did your father ever tell you about the Brotherhood of the Sacred Vault he belonged to in boarding school?”

  “Yeah. Mom laughed at that stuff. I thought it was exciting. I liked hearing about Dad when he was young, even though it was a hundred years ago… not quite, I guess.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “That they wanted to make the world a better place by ridding the Church of hypocrisy and stuff like that. When he was young, Dad wanted to be a pastor, but he changed his mind at Daybreak. Dad said it opened his eyes to all of the evil that’s done in the name of good.”

  “Did he say what he meant?” Stenman asked.

  “He hated the fact that religious people were greedy, stingy, and self-absorbed, even though the Bible taught modesty and generosity. He said that the Church is full of Pharisees that follow the letter of the law but not its spirit.”

  “Did your dad ever see his Sacred Vault friends? Or did he mention them by name?”

  “No. Or once. They were interviewing some bishop on TV and Dad turned it off, because he didn’t want to hear anything that two-faced shit had to say. I asked him what he meant. Dad said the bishop had been in the Sacred Vault with him but had broken all his promises once he rose to a position of power in the Church.”

  “Do you remember the bishop’s name?”

  “No. It was a couple of years ago.”

  “Would you recognize him if we looked at pictures of bishops together?” Stenman opened the laptop she had with her. A moment later she found what she was looking for and set the computer down in front of Mandi.

  It only took twenty seconds for Mandi to spot the right man. “That’s the guy. I remember him from the ears and bald head and glasses.”

  I glanced at the picture. Mandi had identified one of the younger bishops, who appeared relatively often on TV. He was generally considered liberal.

  “You guys need anything else?” Mandi asked, and stood up.

  I stood up, too. “Your dad has called me several times. I’ve noticed how important you are to him. I hope you’ll help us find him and get in touch right away if you hear anything so things will go well for him.”

  Mandi’s early-adult walls came crashing down. She held back the tears as she spoke: “Don’t let Da
d do anything he’ll go to prison for… he’s been through so much already. You guys have to help him…”

  I promised to do my best. Stenman escorted her to the lobby.

  My phone had been on silent during my meeting with Mandi; I’d missed three incoming calls. Now it rang again. I heard a decisive female voice: “This is Ritva Somero. I asked for Detective Oksanen and the switchboard put me through to you. I’m calling from the Daybreak Academy. Detective Oksanen was asking about former employees a couple of days ago. Did I reach the right person?”

  “Yes. Oksanen is on sick leave. I’m his superior.”

  “I’m calling because I think I unintentionally provided him with some incorrect information. I told him we have never had anyone named Leo Anteroinen on the payroll. As it turns out Anteroinen did work here, but his name was recorded as Kalevi Leo Anteroinen, not Leo Kalevi Anteroinen. We knew him here as Kalevi, or Kale. That’s why the Leo didn’t ring any bells, although of course it should have. After speaking with Detective Oksanen, I did some double-checking and discovered my mistake. Apparently he’s the individual Detective Oksanen was referring to.”

  “So Leo Anteroinen was a former employee of the Academy?”

  “He worked here from the spring of 1976 to the summer of 1980. I didn’t start here until 1979. I was just filling in initially, which is why I never got to know him very well.”

  “What was his position at Daybreak?”

  “He was a custodian or maintenance man; as far as I’m concerned, it’s the same thing.”

  That settled the matter. It was the right Anteroinen. We had our first connection. The Daybreak Academy. It linked Laurén to Anteroinen.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

  “Very little. I discussed the matter with Headmaster Hätönen, and he was exceedingly interested as to why the police were asking about Daybreak’s former employees. He’s sensitive about our reputation and, I suppose, leery of the academy getting mixed up in negative publicity.”

  “We’re investigating matters relating to his death.”

  I heard a gasp. “I didn’t know Kalevi had died. Was there a crime involved?”

  “That’s what we’re investigating,” I lied. I was eager to get down to the matter at hand.

  “What do you mean by ‘anything else’? I didn’t know him well, barely at all.”

  “What was he like? Where did he come from, and why did he leave? Anything you can tell us is valuable.”

  “As I recall, he was from the west coast, maybe southern Ostrobothnia. He lived in the staff quarters, was a bachelor. Rather quiet and antisocial. I might be mistaken, because he and I didn’t have much to do with each other. He made sure the drives were plowed, the roads were sanded, the radiators stayed warm, and so on. I usually saw him in the canteen at lunch, and occasionally at academy events.”

  “Do you remember if there was anyone on the staff who was on good terms with Anteroinen?”

  “There might have been, but I wouldn’t know. Maybe one of the younger teachers or youth counselors. They were a pretty carefree bunch; they all lived in the same building.”

  “Daybreak has a religious mission.”

  “Yes, but we employed all sorts of people. Not all of them were religious, and I don’t suppose these days you could legally require them to be. Headmaster Kivalo was a pastor by training and probably genuinely religious, but he was – if I can be frank – a rather lax, timid man and didn’t intervene in the affairs of the staff. He lived with his family in a separate building, and probably wasn’t aware of what went on in the staff quarters.”

  “What went on there?”

  “Young people are the same everywhere. They partied the way they do everywhere else.”

  “In the student dorms as well?”

  “Yes. Many of the boys were already in high school, after all. Got their hands on alcohol somehow, even though they were underage… maybe from the staff.”

  Something about Ms. Somero’s voice prompted me to probe further. “Was Anteroinen the one who bought it for them?”

  “I don’t like to form opinions on the basis of gossip, but that was the rumor.”

  “Is that the reason he had to leave the academy?”

  “Among others.”

  “I want to know every detail. I don’t want to filter anything out.” My voice was so stern it instantly did the trick.

  “There was some sort of scandal… as a result, the father of one of the students demanded that Anteroinen be fired or he would bring in the police. Of course, that spooked Headmaster Kivalo, as timid as he was, because the father was an influential figure, owned his own construction company and was a major donor to Daybreak. But the rumor was that Anteroinen was a scapegoat.”

  “What do you mean by scandal?”

  “Oh dear, oh dear. These are such unpleasant matters… I’ll be retiring soon and I don’t want any trouble…”

  “Like Headmaster Kivalo?” It was a nasty jab, but it worked.

  “One of the students, the son of this construction company owner, claimed that Anteroinen had touched him inappropriately in the gymnasium showers.”

  “Was he the only one?”

  “The only one who complained… but if you have such tendencies, you’re not likely to stop at one.”

  “What was the boy’s name?”

  “Providing names is a little delicate for us, and we’re not sure—”

  “I want the boy’s name, and also the full list of students Detective Oksanen requested.”

  After a brief silence, I heard an uneasy voice again. “The principal doesn’t feel that this is information the police automatically have a right to, or at least that we’d need to know first what sort of investigation is involved.”

  “What could there be to hide in student rosters?”

  “Nothing, perhaps, but Headmaster Hätönen feels we can’t just hand them over regardless. It would be best if you would contact him directly.”

  “Let’s do it that way, then. I also want a list of academy staff from the period in question.”

  “Some are already deceased.”

  “In any event. And I’m sure you can give me Headmaster Kivalo’s information right off the bat.”

  “I’m afraid it won’t do you much good. He’s one of the deceased.”

  “When did he die?”

  “About three years ago now.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “What? The death?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Some sort of accident, as far as I know… in Spain. By the time he had left us he was a widower. He moved to the Costa del Sol.”

  “What sort of accident? A car accident?”

  “It might have been. I don’t know the details. As I recall, I heard about it from Headmaster Hätönen… he just said accident. I think it was mentioned during one of our morning devotionals.”

  “Does the Sacred Vault mean anything to you?”

  “Detective Oksanen asked about that, too. I told him I’d heard rumors about it, but nothing solid. It was said that the boys from one of the high-school classes had founded a secret society that met in the dorms at night.”

  “Do you know any of the members by name?”

  “At least the boy you mentioned.”

  “Laurén?”

  “Yes.”

  “Evidently you remember him clearly?”

  “That’s because… this is another one of those things you should speak to the headmaster about.”

  “I’m not asking these questions for my amusement, or out of curiosity. We’re conducting an investigation of a serious crime and trying to prevent the commission of future crimes. If something ends up happening, you will bear partial responsibility.”

  I was exaggerating a little, I had to admit, but I was starting to get fed up with Ms. Somero’s beating around the bush.

  When she answered, her voice sounded almost teary. “I’d like to help, but the headmaster
said in no uncertain terms I was to—”

  “I’m going to ask the headmaster the same questions, and I won’t say a peep about you.”

  “Do I have your word? I don’t want to get in trouble during my final months here. I’m retiring in early June and…” I could almost see her struggling with herself.

  “You can rest assured I won’t mention you.”

  “Reijo was a very nice boy, but extremely sensitive and unstable and had a lot of problems with his parents… his father. He was a gifted and musical boy, played in the academy orchestra. Everyone liked him. That’s why it was so sad for all of us.”

  “What?”

  “His suicide attempt. He tried to hang himself, but the other boys got him down in time. He was gone from Daybreak for a month, then his father brought him back. The father seemed like a hard man, the black-and-white type. He knew Headmaster Kivalo well. I almost felt sorry for the boy…”

  13

  RITUAL

  Session of the Service’s Guardians of Highest Wisdom

  LOCATION:Temple of the Vault, boys’ dorm fourth floor

  PRESENT:Great Guardian of Souls (highest-ranking member)

  Guardian of the Great Seal (scribe)

  Adorner of the Sacred Vault (convener)

  Three magi have been made highest officers of the Vault through the sacred seals that are collectively known as the Gospel of the Three Angels. God is an ever-present principle in the three worlds. According to the strictures of the Vault, anyone who betrays his brothers will be utterly banished from our fraternity for a period of thirty years, which symbolizes the thirty pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed his Lord.

  We kneel on the floor of the temple in the shape of an intertwined triangle, forming a golden pyramid of wisdom, love, and service. We wear white garb reminiscent of the ceremonial robes of the high priest of ancient Israel, covering the heart, the breast, and the upper abdomen. Each of us holds in our hands a coded message that each of us has decoded and which must be identical in order for the Holy Ceremony to take place. Thirty-three hours after the decision is made, evil will be brought before the eternal high judge to suffer its horrific fate.